Trapper's Lament
by Adamantwrites
Summary: Trapper meets a woman in an off-beat profession and finds he is unable to resist her. Strong language, sexual content, a tad bit of kinky behavior. Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. All original characters and plots are the property of the author. No copyright infringement is intended.
1. Chapter 1

Trapper's Lament

"You free for a while?" Trapper had opened the office door and looked in. He was a man in his early fifties with a look of dignity that matched his powerful build and his height. His hair had receded a great deal but to counterbalance the lack of hair on his head, he had grown a beard that showed the same gray that peppered his temples. During marriage counseling, his wife had mentioned how much she hated beards, his in particular, and when he asked why she had never told him, all she would say is that she didn't believe her opinion would count since it never had before. He had just sat back, shaking his head and smiling at the absurdity of it all and admiring how deftly his wife could find another way to injure him.

"Yeah, come on in and have a seat."

Trapper stepped into the psychologist's office and closed the door behind him. He smiled but this made him very uncomfortable; he was never one to discuss his feelings which had caused many an argument with Melanie during their marriage. She always accused him of not opening up about how he felt but Trapper had said that as long as he loved her, what else could matter?

"Is this a social visit or professional?" Dr. Connor had known John Francis Xavier McIntyre for years, ever since their time together in the service and he knew that it was Trapper who had secured this hospital position for him; in the whole hospital, there were only two psychologists. He was one and the other was Trapper's ex-wife's fiancé, Dr. David Sandler. And now Trapper was in his "civvies" so this must be his day off and his "issue" must be important for Trapper John to have given up such a beautiful day when he could be out on his boat, the tennis courts or the golf course.

"This is a professional visit and I would appreciate it if you'd forgo professional courtesy and charge me. Otherwise I may go on for hours."

Dr. Connor laughed. "Sit down, John. No charge. And you can go on as long as you want. Well, at least for the next two and half hours. Someone else is coming in then." Dr. Connor smiled and Trapper barely responded, a smile just touching the corners of his lips.

Trapper sat down. "I don't know how long I can stay sitting-she keeps me on my toes just talking about her."

"Melanie?"

"No, not Melanie. It's a woman I've been seeing for quite a while now and I'd like to go on seeing her but…things may be getting out of hand and I don't know what to do because I find that...I really can't understand how I feel about her."

"What's getting out of hand?"

"Everything. My feelings for her are…overwhelming." Trapper rose and started pacing around the room. He could feel the back of his shirt stick to him; he had begun to sweat thinking about all he would have to confess and what it would reveal about him but he felt he had to do something, tell someone about her as she brought out all the darkness that he had managed for so long to successfully keep hidden. If he didn't suppress his urges, he didn't know what would happen.

~ O ~

It was a fundraising event for the hospital and Trapper arrived alone; most of the surgeons and doctors had. It was just another boring event and Trapper wanted to be able to leave as soon as possible. He figured that after he gave his thank you speech to San Francisco Memorial's "generous supporters," he would leave; he was looking forward to turning in early as he had performed two surgeries and handled a possible resignation from a heart specialist that day and he was weary. But now it was the cocktail hour and Trapper had to go around and "glad hand" all the rich businessmen; he hated this part of his job as he felt that he had sold out, but it was necessary. The hospital needed another open MRI machine and there was really no other way to purchase it since they were non-profit and money was tight.

As Trapper stood nursing his drink, Frank Lopez, another surgeon, walked over to Trapper and said, "Do you hate this as much as I do?"

"More," Trapper answered, swirling the ice in his glass. "Did you drag your wife here tonight?"

"We couldn't get a sitter but I don't think she tried very hard. And why are you solo? Given up on women?" Frank knew that Trapper usually had a lovely woman on his arm; in a pinch, Melanie had often accompanied him and played the part of the gracious "wife" of the head of surgery, charming the hospital supporters. Although Melanie and Trapper had been divorced for five years, Melanie still clung to her former role as the wife of a powerful man—she heartily enjoyed it.

"There's no one I dislike enough to submit her to this type of boredom," Trapper answered.

"Melanie loves this stuff. Why not bring her? Oh, I forgot—she's engaged to David. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry; I think it's wonderful. Let her depend on David now to unclog her toilet, put oil in her car or arrange a handyman to work on whatever goes wrong in her condo and not me. Actually, Melanie probably would have come along if I'd asked her."

Dr. Frank Lopez noticed Trapper was distracted and followed his gaze. Trapper was carefully watching another doctor at the reception, Dr. Alan Stratton, and the woman with him. "She's something else, isn't she?" Frank asked.

"She sure is." The woman was probably in her early forties, elegantly dressed and with her dark hair neatly pulled back from her face. She was categorically beautiful in Trapper's book—not flashy but lovely with shapely legs and a fine figure. "So what the hell is she doing with him?" Stratton was a good surgeon, but not the type of man who had much luck with women, especially not a woman like this. "She his sister or something? Cousin, maybe?"

"I can tell you what I heard—if you want to hear it." Frank was careful; Trapper didn't indulge in gossip and felt that professional surgeons shouldn't be participating in talk about what another surgeon might be doing in his private life although many were glad to announce their latest sexual conquest or their new yacht, car or house. But this interested him as Stratton was a quiet, reserved man, slight of build and had never been married despite being in his fifties.

"What? What did you hear?" Trapper looked at Frank who grinned mischievously.

"She's a dominatrix."

Trapper looked incredulous and then laughed. "You're shitting me."

"Nope. That's what I heard from a reliable source—a dominatrix and a damn good one. How much you want to bet that Stratton's got a plug up his ass?"

"Well," Trapper answered, "that would explain that look on his face but then he's always got something or another up his ass."

"Wouldn't you love to see her in spiked leather boots?" Frank asked. "Oof, oof, oof." Frank made slight pelvic thrusts. "I'd make her wear them while I fucked her." Frank sighed heavily.

"He's a lucky bastard," Trapper said and found himself aroused, imagining the woman standing over a bound man with a riding crop in her hand wearing tall, leather boots and demanding that he lick them. "Let's go introduce ourselves." And Trapper walked over to the couple and Frank Lopez, taken by surprise, lagged by a few seconds and then followed Trapper.

"Alan," Trapper said, walking over to the man and woman who were obviously together but who didn't speak to one another. "Good to see you here. Usually you don't show." And although he was talking to Dr. Stratton, he was looking at the woman who just glanced his way and then looked off at the milling group of doctors and businessmen.

"Yes, well, I was able to find the time. Waiting to hear your 'thank you' speech, Trapper. Hope it works to bring us the money we need." The man kept glancing at the woman as well and Frank Lopez stood beside Trapper, looking back and forth from face to face. Trapper watched the woman closely and noticed how she slightly turned away from them; it was obvious to the three men that she didn't care to be introduced but Trapper wasn't going to let it pass.

"And who did you talk into coming with you?" Trapper said but the woman still didn't look at them.

"Yeah," Frank said. "Introduce us, Alan."

The woman turned to face them, her face still and her demeanor calm. Trapper saw that her skin was like porcelain, smooth and unlined.

"Oh, um…" Alan Stratton hemmed a bit, "this is Ariadne." She nodded at Trapper and Frank Lopez. "This is Trapper—I mean Dr. John McIntyre and Dr. Frank Lopez. John is our head of surgery, our chief surgeon."

"Very nice to meet both of you," she said quietly, her demeanor belying her statement. She didn't appear to think it was "nice" at all.

"Ariadne," Trapper said, musing. "In mythology, she was abandoned by Theseus after she helped him with the Minotaur. He married her sister, what was her name?" Trapper looked at the woman, he didn't believe it was her real name. He assumed it was her "professional" name.

"Phaedra. Her name was Phaedra. Ariadne helped Theseus when he needed it—she was a fool to fall in love with him."

Trapper smiled at Ariadne but she didn't respond. "Yes, well, women often say that they get the worst out of a relationship, don't they? Now my ex-wife, she's certainly gotten the best." But she didn't respond and an awkward silence fell over the small group. Then the men chuckled at Trapper's remark to ease the silence.

"Excuse me, won't you," Ariadne said and handing her drink to Dr. Stratton, she started to walk away.

"You're coming back, aren't you?" Stratton desperately asked.

Trapper and Frank looked at Stratton. He sounded terrified that Ariadne wouldn't return to him, that she was going to run off and abandon him. Ariadne simply said, yes, she would be back but Alan looked fearful. Trapper noticed the signs of stress, the heightened breathing, the sweat breaking out on Alan's forehead.

"Boy, you've got it bad," Trapper said to Alan. And he shook his head and walked away, Frank following him.

"What do you think, Trapper?" Frank asked.

"I think she's got his balls in her hand and she just squeezed them. In a few hours, he's going to be on his knees in front of her, but I don't know that I wouldn't change places with him. A woman like that-damn, I swear she puts out a scent like a bitch in heat."

Frank looked back at Alan who stood, looking for Ariadne "I could do with a night with her. She makes me hard just thinking about what she might be like."

Trapper downed his drink, the ice clinking. "First, she is—if what you said is true, a dominatrix and they're not whores. But she's a cold one. You have a wife waiting for you at home and doesn't a loving wife sound more welcoming than a steely-eyed bitch like her?"

"I don't know, Trap. I really don't know. Maybe I need a little adventure in my life instead of just white bread sex."

"White bread sex has a lot going for it. Trust me. I haven't found anyone yet that I want to spend every night with but I sure as hell wouldn't want someone like her as a steady diet." Trapper looked at his empty glass. "I don't know about you, but I need another one?" Frank agreed and the two doctors walked over to the bar. But for the rest of the evening, Trapper couldn't keep his eyes off Ariadne; she intrigued him.


	2. Chapter 2

Trapper wanted Italian and since he was going to pass one of his favorite Italian restaurants on his way home, he decided to stop in. He never minded eating by himself and had actually, over the past two years, become more comfortable with it and often preferred to do things alone. There was no need to make conversation and after a day like the one he'd had, he lacked the energy to be pleasant and a charming conversationalist. So Trapper looked forward to a nice meal with garlic and red wine and no worry about anything else except possible indigestion. He considered that he may even have tiramisu for dessert if he wasn't too full.

The Maître d' greeted Trapper with a large, welcoming smile and even though Trapper had no reservation, Dominic said that he would be glad to seat him. Trapper asked for someplace quiet.

The Maître d' guided Trapper through the elegant restaurant to the smaller, more private dining room in the back but then she caught his eye; Ariadne was sitting alone at a round table in the corner holding a glass of wine—not drinking but staring into it as if it was a scrying bowl.

Trapper asked him to wait—he saw someone he knew and Dominic placed the menu on the small table that was to be Trapper's.

Trapper glanced to see which table was his and then gave the man five dollars. A grateful Dominic returned to the front.

"And what are you doing here all alone?" Trapper had caught Ariadne by surprise and she looked up, her mouth open.

"Oh….Doctor…MacIntosh, is it?" She looked up at him and by the expression on her face, Trapper knew that she had mangled his name on purpose.

"McIntyre. John McIntyre."

"Oh, of course." She said nothing else but let go of her wine glass and sighed.

"May I join you?"

"Is the head of surgery eating alone?"

"So you do remember me." Trapper smiled, gloating; he knew her game; she wanted him to think that he was so unimportant that she wouldn't remember him from two weeks earlier. "May I sit down?"

She nodded and Trapper sat opposite her.

"Actually," she said, "you may have the table all to yourself. I'm leaving."

"I was hoping you'd stay and have dinner with me. I'll buy."

"You're generous but no, thank you. I was supposed to meet a client but I've waited 15 minutes—that's the longest I'll wait. Obviously he's not showing." She gathered her purse. "Enjoy your dinner, Doctor McIntyre."

Trapper stood when she did. "But how can I with you gone?"

"Don't try to charm me, Doctor—what was it Dr. Stratton called you? Trapper?"

"Yes—a nickname from college after an unfortunate experience" Trapper waited a moment but Ariadne said noting—just watched him evenly. "Okay-I'll quit trying to win you over with my charm, however dubious that may be. I find you attractive, Ariadne—actually beautiful and although I was looking forward to a quiet dinner and then watching a basketball game at home while burping and scratching myself, I'd rather have dinner with you. I promise to behave." Trapper waited. He saw self-deprecating humor wasn't going to charm her either. "You haven't had dinner yet and although I can't convince myself that you would prefer to have dinner with me over that of a 'client', I would appreciate it if you wouldn't play coy; it doesn't become you nor does that cold, distant attitude. You want to emphasize that I'm so unimportant that you couldn't even remember my name but I have the impression that you remember every man you meet."

Ariadne sat back down and so did Trapper. "All right, Trapper. May I call you Trapper?" He nodded. "All right, I'll keep you company."

"Thank you," Trapper said.

The waiter came to the table, handing them menus, and Trapper asked for wine. The waiter nodded and left. "I find it hard to believe that you were stood up. By a client you say?"

She looked at him and Trapper thought that she had the eyes of a killer—cold and calculating. "You haven't asked me what business I'm in so that means that you already know."

"I heard a 'rumor'."

She smiled to herself. "I thought so. Strange, I hadn't pegged you for that type."

He laughed. "I'm not—at least I don't think so. I want something else from you."

"Let me clarify things to you right now," she said with narrowed eyes. "I'm a dominatrix, not a hooker. I supply a service to men who have issues that need working out. I'm not into cruel S&amp;M and my clients don't touch me unless I permit it—and I rarely do. But there's no sex-just my telling them that they're bad, bad boys and smacking them on their fannies and humiliating them howsoever they desire. Sometimes, they have to do a penance such as sitting through a long, boring dinner or party in discomfort—perhaps with a remote control vibrator or a plug in place or with clips pinching at their delicate parts—but that's only when they need it. That's it. I leave when I'm through with my job and walk away—it's just a job and I don't get involved. Their mommy issues are their own." She leaned in slightly. "And do you have mommy issues, Doctor? Do you want your ass spanked?"

"No—although I might like it from you—I don't really know. But the only mommy issue I have is if I forget to call her on her birthday and fail to send flowers. But you seem to be the one with issues, Ariadne. And tell me, what is your real name?"

The waiter returned and after the ritual of Trapper approving the wine, the waiter poured Trapper a glass; Ariadne still had practically a full glass. He asked if they needed more time to order and Trapper looked at Ariadne. She told him she liked the eggplant parmigiana—it was always good-so Trapper told the waiter her order and his.

Other than that, Ariadne remained silent, watching Trapper the whole time until after the waiter left. "What does it matter what my name is?" she quietly asked.

"I'd just like to know."

"Is this like Rumplestiltskin? If you know my name it gives you some sort of power over me?"

He chuckled. "No, but I feel foolish calling you by your…alias? Besides, how can we get to know each other better if I don't even know your actual name, what your friends call you?"

"I don't feel foolish calling you Trapper, although, by all reason I should—it's rather a silly name, isn't it? I suppose that I should ask you about its origin but I don't really care enough. Why should it bother you whether I prefer to be called Ariadne or something else? Besides, I don't know that I want to be better friends with you. You're assuming quite a bit. I hope that you don't expect me to slip off my shoe and massage your balls with my foot or crawl under the table and give you head just because you bought me dinner."

Trapper laughed loudly and she looked around to see a few people glimpse their way. "No, I don't expect that but if you should decide you'd like to, well, I'm game." He grinned.

She seemed annoyed with his attitude. "Most men are game. So exactly what do you want?"

He was about to answer when a man came to their table and stood there, the Maître d' behind him. The man was well-dressed and dignified; about fifty. "Ariadne?" he asked her. "Are you Ariadne? I'm supposed to meet someone here—and Ariadne. I apologize for being late but it couldn't be helped- and I reserved a table in my name for the two of us. Wainwright?" The man looked at Trapper and then back at Ariadne. "The Maître d' just showed me this table as the one I reserved but said that since it was taken, that I could have another. But I need to know, are you Ariadne?"

Trapper stood up and faced the man. They were both tall, Trapper being slightly taller.

"I'm afraid that you've made a mistake. This lady is with me and we're having dinner. I'm sorry that you missed your assignation."

The man glanced at her but Ariadne said nothing—only dropped her eyes. Trapper continued to face off against the man. "Fine," the man finally said with an air of defeat. "I'll call…Ariadne later and find out what happened." He looked back and forth from Trapper and Ariadne. "Enjoy your meal," he said and left, the nervous Maitre d' behind him.

Trapper waited until Wainwright was completely gone and then sat back down. Ariadne looked at him; she considered Trapper wasn't a man to be crossed.

"I can stand up for myself," she said quietly. "I would have told him that he was late and that I don't wait for anyone."

"Now how would that have made me look if I hadn't jumped to your defense?"

"What makes you think that I prefer eating with you and not him? After all, he's business-you're not. He may even be better company."

Trapper smiled; she had him there and he wasn't quite sure what to say, so he said what came first into his mind—the truth. "I don't give a damn what you prefer. I want to have dinner with you and I wasn't going to surrender you up so easily. And if you want to be paid for your time, fine, I'll pay you but if I do, I want more than just the pleasure of your company—I want the pleasure of your body as well."

"I told you, I'm not a hooker, not a whore despite what you might think and if that's what you want, I'm sure you can pick one up off the street."

The waiter brought their salads and bread and asked if there was anything else they wanted at the moment. Trapper answered no, they were fine. The waiter left.

"Oh, did I speak for you again?" he asked with a tinge of sarcasm. "Just a bad habit, I suppose." He raised his wine glass. "To you, Ariadne—or whoever the hell you are—to your beauty and your charming company."


	3. Chapter 3

Warning—descriptive sexual situations. This is a "Mature" story.

Part 3

They had finished their coffee and Trapper had passed on the tiramisu; he didn't want to become fat and lazy he had told her.

"How about a walk to ease digestion, you know, a little postprandial stroll." He watched her closely.

She returned his gaze. Ariadne tried to read Trapper as she read all men but couldn't. Ariadne couldn't decide if Trapper was on the level sexually or if he had some ulterior motive in making her acquaintance again. Obviously, he was an attractive man and he had money and an important position yet here he was, having come to the restaurant alone and asking if he could join her. She wasn't sure if that meant he was confident or pathetic. And she remembered that at the fund raising event, he had mentioned an ex-wife but at dinner he hadn't said anything about her or if he had any children or much of anything else; he was being as secretive about his personal life as she. She had tried to ask him direct questions but Ariadne had to smile at how deftly he bobbed and weaved, avoiding answering her questions, usually by asking her one.

"Why don't you just tell me what you want, Trapper?' she said. "Do you expect me to believe that you just want to platonically stroll with me down the streets of our fair city?"

"Why not? It's a beautiful city and a beautiful night. We could ride the streetcar and walk in Golden Gate Park. Or we could go back to my place and we could screw—oh, I'm sorry if I was vulgar; we could fornicate." Trapper watched her carefully to gauge her reaction.

"Your place? Now wouldn't I be a fool to go back with you and have sex with a man I don't know."

"Well, I don't know you and I'm willing and I assure you, I don't have a dungeon with whips and chains—but then, that's your territory, isn't it?"

"And I suppose you think that's clever, getting in a snide remark whenever you can?" Ariadne found herself excited by him and as the evening had gone on, she came to desire him more but it had been so long since she had slept with a man and here was one who may be more than she could handle.

Trapper just smiled. "I apologize. I guess I have been picking on you a bit. Well, how about it? We could talk, listen to music…just have a pleasant night."

Ariadne stared at him. Part of her wanted to go but another part of her was screaming a warning; he could easily work his way into her heart. And she wouldn't allow that again. "I tell you what—I'll follow you. How does that sound?"

He chuckled. "It sounds like a kiss-off."

"I said that I'd follow you. Don't you believe me?"

Trapper stood up and went to pull out her chair. He leaned in and whispered in her ear. "No, I don't believe you at all."

Ariadne said nothing, just smiled at him and Trapper helped her with her wrap and then escorted her out to the valet parking, exchanging goodnights with Dominic.

~ 0 ~

As he drove, Trapper kept glancing in his rearview and it seemed as if Ariadne had told the truth; she was following him and when he opened his garage and pulled in, she parked on the driveway behind him. He stepped out to help her from her car.

"See, a nice upper-class neighborhood—zoning code strictly prohibits dungeons and whips."

Ariadne looked at him with no emotion; she wanted to smile, to relax around him but she knew that she had to keep up her guard. John McIntyre was the type of man she feared. "Let's just go inside and don't waste my time."

"Yes, ma'am," Trapper said and led her inside. She looked around the living room.

"You have some lovely pieces," she said, running her fingertips over a gilt frame of an oriental painting.

"Thank you. Wine?" he asked as he moved toward the wine rack.

"No, no wine for me. Did you decorate the place?"

"No. My ex."

Ariadne ran her hand over the back of the couch feeling the fine fabric. "Always here as a reminder of her, aren't they?"

Trapper said nothing, just watched her. She glanced at him; he looked serious. Ariadne opened her purse, pulled out her phone and looked briefly at the messages and then shut it off.

"No more business tonight," she said when she saw he was watching here. "Where's your bedroom? Upstairs?"

"Yes, second door on the right." She nodded and Trapper followed her up, watching her round, firm buttocks shift from side to side as she climbed the stairs and the movement of her calves and narrowness of her ankles excited him. He thought how he would like those legs locked around his neck with his face buried between her legs, her buttocks gripped in his hands. Trapper took a deep breath in anticipation.

And without another word or looking at him, Ariadne began to undress. Trapper watched and was about to say something but Ariadne seemed to treat everything without emotion, he thought, even getting fucked. So Trapper quickly undressed as well but he slid under the sheets before she was finished and pulled a foil pack out of the nightstand drawer. When Ariadne pulled her slip off over her head, Trapper groaned and grabbed himself to quickly roll on a condom; Ariadne wore a garter belt and stockings but no underpants; he hadn't seen a woman in a garter belt outside of a strip show—and that was only for men to tuck in bills-since he was a young man. Women in garter belts had aroused him then and they aroused him now. So he controlled himself with effort while she leaned over slightly and unhooked her bra, releasing her breasts. Then she started to unhook her stockings.

"Don't, Leave them on," he growled harshly. Ariadne glanced at him and stopped. "Come here."

She said nothing but walked over to the side of the bed and he moved toward her. Her curly patch of hair stood out against her white skin and the black garter belt framed the area. He pushed his nose into her bush and smelled her. Her scent excited him. Unlike men who adored perfumes and such, Trapper liked the natural smell of a woman's body. When he and Melanie were still married and still desirous of one another, after a hard game of tennis, Trapper wouldn't let her shower and then, once they were home, pull her into bed and take her, inhaling her sweaty, musky smell. On the other hand, Melanie was repulsed by the whole idea and the smells of sweat and sex and soon, she refused him all together until after they had both showered-separately.

Ariadne held his head, running one hand down the back of his neck and noticing the soft curls at the base. Oddly, they moved her, and she gently ran her fingers through them. Trapper stuck his tongue into the thatch of hair and explored her, sliding his tongue between the folds until he felt the hard nub and he gently pushed against it with his tongue. She shook slightly.

He looked up at her; she wasn't cold and reserved anymore. She was breathing heavily, her rounded breasts heaving and the nipples hard, the skin around them twisted and puckered.

"Come here," he said, lying back in the bed and she did, gingerly putting one knee on the mattress until he grabbed her and pulled her to him. And neither of them said another word. Their mouths were filled with each other as they rolled around on the bed, legs wrapping around each other and grunts and moans escaping them. Trapper wanted to consume her, devour her and he tried to keep his mouth filled with her soft, pink flesh as she twisted and turned to escape his demanding hands, mouth and body. His teethy nips at her breasts, her buttocks, the tender flesh between her legs, drove her mad. She plunged with him into sensations she had never felt, how he pushed his way past her tight muscles that seemed to want to keep him out but he filled he, aided by her slickness and her hands gripping his buttocks. Together, they eased his entrance and made her cry with a desire she thought she was incapable of feeling. Ariadne clung to the broadness of his shoulders as he moved over her, their bodies fusing as if the heat of their desire for one another would meld them together. And she cried out in her attempt to pull away from him, to escape the constant, urgent thrusting of his body but couldn't, actually didn't want to except for her fear. But she felt herself begin to enjoy the pleasurable sensations that flowed through her until finally, she gave in all together, released herself to all the sensations he provided. Then, as she still held him, Ariadne felt his body become tense until he too, after a long, low moan, was relaxed and lying on top of her while kissing her neck and breasts and then her mouth, their bodies, both slick with sweat.

And then, she gently rolled away from him and went to pick up her clothing. She stepped into her heels and reached for her bra.

"What are you doing?" Trapper asked as he lay on his back watching her.''

She looked at him as if he were a child. "Why, I'm dressing. I did what I came for and now I'm leaving."

Trapper chuckled as he threw an arm over his forehead. "Leaving? Well, you were a good fuck, I have to say that. You just might consider being a hooker. I'd pay you." He glanced at her. "Oh, I should ask-do you want me to pay you for tonight? I'll be glad to. I'll throw in a big tip as well."

Ariadne slipped her dress over her head and then reached behind her to zip it up. "Go to hell."

He laughed and she became angrier. He felt mean; she was deserting him after an emotionless fuck—at least on her part. "Well I suppose that you're what every man dreams of—a good fuck and then immediately after, you go and don't even require cab fare."

Ariadne picked up her bag and her wrap and felt for her car keys. Then she glared at him and turned to leave.

Trapper gingerly unrolled the condom, tossed it in the trash and pulled on his jeans that he kept over a chair by the bed. He knew he should wash his hands but there wasn't any time. Trapper caught up with her just as she was opening his door and leaving into the night. He grabbed her arm and swung her to face him.

"Don't go. Stay awhile. I'm sorry for what I said. We can talk."

She pulled her arm away. "I have nothing to talk about."

"I'd like to see you again. How can I…call you? Get in touch with you."

"You can't." She stalked out of his house and barefoot and bare-chested, he followed her out onto the driveway. She didn't wait for him to open her door but swung the door open and slid in, slamming it quickly. Trapper stood watching, his hands on his hips.

"Wait!" He waved one hand and she stopped. He went to the driver's side and Ariadne rolled down her window, coldly assessing him. "What's your actual name?" he asked. "Please. I'd like to know who I just…" Trapper searched for the right words. "…slept with."

She gave a small laugh and then exaggerating the understatement said, "Yes, we_ slept_ together. Why not tell you? It's Ann. Just a simple name—Ann." She rolled the window up and Trapper stepped away as she backed out her car and then drove away but not before Trapper caught the last four numbers of her car's plate.

"Ann," Trapper said to himself, smiling. He realized that he had needed to know her name and that maybe he'd see her again and this time he would call her Ann. Her name became like a magic spell-a word that would bring her into his life as a full human being. Ann. And he definitely wanted to see Ann again because as sexually satisfying as their encounter had been, he still had the unfulfilled yearning for a woman to share his life. And Trapper smiled to himself. He knew that he should just accept what happened and move on but he couldn't and the rest of the night and for days afterward, the name Ann became his mantra and he heard its sound with every beat of his heart.


	4. Chapter 4

Four

Trapper rapped lightly on Stratton's office door and walked in. Dr. Stratton was sitting at his desk examining records. He looked up and when he saw it was Trapper, he stood and offered a weak smile.

"I was just looking over the scans for Mr. Murray, the patient you checked up on." He motioned at the folder on his desk that contained the print-outs of the scan reports. "Honestly, John, I can't see where the perforation is just by the scans and I ordered three. I even asked Titus to look them over—he's the best, don't you think?"

"Yes—he's good at that. He's so good that I've arranged for him to assist you in an exploratory scheduled for this evening—I just reserved an OR. I'm sure that with his help, you'll find the perforation and correct it. Since it's so small that it's not showing up. It may even close on its own."

"I hope so, John. This has really gotten to me. I feel incompetent but then I haven't been able to keep my mind on anything since…" Alan Stratton dropped his head in his hands and seemed to be crying.

Trapper went around the desk and put a hand on Stratton's shaking shoulders. He had consoled patients in the face of bad news before and comforted families reeling from death but never before had a fellow doctor fallen apart like this. Sobs escaped the man. "I'm sure the issue can be fixed with just a few stitches and it was found early enough. I've spoken to the family and they haven't made any noise about suing if that's what's upsetting you. But the hospital's sued all the time. It's just part and parcel of doing business."

Stratton sat up and Trapper's hand dropped away. Stratton, his breath still shaky, controlled himself. … "I'm sorry. It's just that when I'm tense like this, I used to see…well, I saw a woman who helped me to relax. Having all this control over people's lives, well, without her I'm falling apart." Stratton pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his face and blew his nose.

Trapper carefully watched him. "That's the second reason I'm here. If you're talking about Ariadne…" Trapper noticed how Stratton froze; he didn't even seem to breathe. "I saw her about two weeks ago at my favorite Italian restaurant. I stopped at her table."

"Oh?" Stratton looked hopeful. "Did she ask about me?"

"No."

Stratton collapsed again, dropping his face in his hands. "She won't see me anymore." Stratton said, raising his head. "She said I was becoming too needy, too demanding and needed to find myself another…therapist. I told her there couldn't be anyone else—offered he twice as much money—three times but she refused and hung up. I kept calling, begging, leaving messages but then she blocked my number." Stratton looked up at Trapper's worried face. "I don't know what I'm going to do-I just…"

"I'll tell you what I think you should do-take a few days off, maybe go to Human Relations and ask to see an outside therapist. I'll help Titus with the surgery on your patient. You need to move on from Ariadne."

"But I don't want to, John. She is the most beautiful, the most understanding…"

Trapper felt sudden revulsion for Stratton, No wonder Ann wanted to cut him loose, get rid of him. He was a quailing, weak, puling man, hardly worth respecting.

"Well, I had another reason for coming here." Stratton looked up to Trapper but he continued despite the sad look Stratton gave him. "Can you give me her number?"

"Ariadne's?"

"Yes. Is it a problem for you?"

"Are you going to call her…about me?"

"No. I just want to get in touch with her." Trapper waited. He felt foolish, embarrassed and hoped that he wasn't looking at his future self when he looked at Stratton, that he wouldn't be sobbing after a few months with Ann.

"I wouldn't have guessed you to be that type. You seem to always be in control. But then maybe that's why you are. It's the greatest relief to hand control, to give all your power to someone else."

"I just want to see her but not as a client."

"You know about Ariadne, don't you? You know what she does for a living."

"If you mean that she's a dominatrix, yes, I know. But she's still a woman and a beautiful one. I find the fact that she's strong appealing. I don't want her to stick anything up my ass or take a Ping-Pong paddle to me but I would like to see her."

Stratton sighed. "She said she doesn't go out socially. I asked her to. Wanted to see her outside of our…business relationship but she said no. No and she was adamant. I could only way I could get her to go with me to the fundraiser was professionally—I told her I needed to be punished and she obliged—for $600.00 an hour."

Trapper let out a whistle of appreciation and shook his head. He quickly calculated how much the night with Ann would have cost him had he paid—over $2,000.

Stratton pulled out his phone and scrolled through it. "Here. I may as well give it to you—no matter what the reason is that you want it." He showed Trapper the number beside the name "Ariadne" and Trapper quickly tapped it into his own phone.

"Thanks, Alan. And I meant what I said. "If you don't want to go to HR, go talk to Connor—or David Sandler—he's a good man. And trust me, he knows what it's like to be with a domineering woman." Trapper chuckled and then Stratton smiled.

"Oh, he and your ex are engaged, right?"

"Yes and I wish to hell they'd hurry up and marry. Anyway, I'll clear your schedule for the next three days…"

"No," Stratton said. "If I'm home I'll just keep thinking about Ariadne and I'll lose my mind. As it is, unless I want to pace the floor all night, I have to take a hypnotic to sleep."

"You know there are other women, other 'professionals.' Call one of them."

"I should but-I love Ariadne and that's why she shut me out. Quite the irony, isn't it?"

"Yeah. I suppose it is." Trapper walked out of Stratton's office feeling a bit of sympathy for the man but at the same time, feeling victorious; he had Ann's number. If she didn't reply, he'd call a friend on the police force and call in a favor; he'd ask for a trace of her license plate and he'd go from there. And then he paused. Maybe he should take his own advice and see another woman. For him to behave this way was unusual. He had pursued women before. Most had turned out not to be worth the chase and a few weren't interested which then killed his interest in them. But for some reason, he had to have Ann. Trapper considered if maybe it wasn't because she was a dominatrix. Perhaps he needed that.

Melanie had always had control of their sex life and he had always complied, doing exactly what she wanted, having sex only when she was in the mood and then refraining from any unusual acts. There were a few times when he persisted and Melanie acquiesced, albeit it reluctantly, but he always paid for it. Melanie would be the martyr for the next few days and he would send her flowers and take her out to dinner.

Trapper smiled to himself. Maybe being under the power of a dominatrix was what he needed after all.


	5. Chapter 5

_Again-sexual content. Vague but it's there._

Five

Trapper looked at his phone—it was Ann.

"Hello, Ann-I wasn't sure if you'd return my call."

"I considered not. But first, you're calling Ariadne—not Ann. Second, where did you get my number? I only accept clients through referrals."

"Stratton. You've left him in quite a mess." Trapper waited but she said nothing. "Anyway, I'd like to hire you." Again there was silence. He was surprised that his heart was booming—he hadn't expected to have such a physical reaction.

"For what do you want to hire me? I told you I'm not a prostitute. When I sleep with a man it's because I want to, not because I'm paid and since I no longer care to sleep with you, we have nothing more to say."

"Wait—I told you I want to hire you. I…think I need a little punishment."

"I'm sure you do, doctor, but I'm not the person to do it."

Trapper laughed. "Oh, I think you are the perfect person. Let's meet for drinks and discuss what I require-and the cost." He waited.

"Funny, doctor, but I don't believe you. I think that you just want to fuck again and this is your way of trying to find a means to seduce me. Do you want to ply me with alcohol? Slide your talented hand between my thighs in a public place? No, thank you. Now, if you're through trying to get in through the back door…"

"Oh, do you like a man using the 'back door '? One of my favorites—nice and hot and tight." Trapper found he was sitting on the edge of his sofa. Just her voice had excited him and the thought of sodomizing her, of her rounded buttocks being spread for his pleasure was a thing of sexual fantasy. And he had been fantasizing about her even more since their tryst. He waited to hear her voice but there was no response. He wondered if she had hung up. And then he heard her.

"I was right about you—you just want to sleep with me again. You're no masochist—you don't want to be punished—you like to dominate, to take control. "

"You're right in that I don't want to 'sleep' with you-I want to fuck you and what's wrong with that? I think you're so immersed in "'Ariadne' that you forget, Ann, you have needs like everyone else-don't you? It must be wearisome to always being the one to call the shots, to always be in charge of giving or withholding pain and punishment." His voice dropped. "What about you, Ann? Don't you want to be submissive for a night? Don't you want to be used just for a man's pleasure as if you actually were a whore? You could allow yourself to submit to various sexual acts and enjoy them…thrill in them." Trapper knew that he had Ann—she was listening to him and thinking.

"All right—we'll see what happens. I choose the hotel."

"That's fine with me. Choose one of the most expensive hotels in town but make sure they have good room service. I think I'll be hungry afterwards and you may not be in any shape to go out." He could hear her shaky sigh on the other end of the phone; he knew he had one this first battle.

"This Wednesday night at the Ritz-Carlton. Reserve a room. I'll join you at 8:00."

"All right. Nice hotel; even if you stand me up, at least I'll have a good night's sleep in a luxury suite." Then he hit the end button on his phone. He wanted to be the one to end the conversation.

~ 0 ~

Trapper sipped champagne while he sat in one of the easy chairs in the suite. It was ten after eight and Ann hadn't yet shown. He smiled grimly to himself. _That bitch. This is her way of getting back at me—standing me up after I put out all this money. It's what I deserve though. Well, Gonzo wants to set me up with his girl's best friend—maybe I'll accept…_

His musings were interrupted by a knock on the door. It was Ann and she stood in the open doorway wearing a black fitted jacket over a cream-colored high-necked blouse and a tight skirt. Her hair was prim and her make-up minimal. But Trapper knew that underneath the 'schoolmarm' wardrobe was a black lace garter belt holding up sheer stockings and a black lace bra. The bra he could see under the sheerness of the blouse when he helped her remove her was enticing_._

"Can I get you some champagne?"

"No. You said that you wanted to fuck so let's do."

Trapper put down his glass. "You don't like to waste time, do you?" Ann said nothing—just looked at him but he observed the blue vein along her neck pulsing; she was excited. Her breathing had stepped up as well and her cheeks were flushed—her pupils, dilated.

He walked over to kiss her neck and then began to unbutton her blouse and when he had it open, he kissed her hotly on her throat. He noticed that she shuddered slightly and dropped her head back. She was giving herself to him and Trapper knew he had to be careful not to hurt her, not to get carried away. He stepped back and sat back down in the chair.

"Undress for me. I want to watch you."

Anne slowly removed each piece of clothing while Trapper watched but somehow, she felt in strange territory. The doctor was inscrutable—he gave no tells and so she became even more excited and when he rose from the chair and pulled her to him, she gave her will over to him..

~ 0 ~

Trapper stretched and opened his eyes to daylight. The room was still and he propped himself on his elbows and looked about the room. The dishes and such from their late dinner was still on the table where the waiter had served them and his clothes were still draped across the chair where he had thrown them. The plush robes he and Ann had put on after their bath in the huge marble tub were still pooled on the floor next to the bed. Trapper did notice that Ann's clothes were gone; she had dressed and left.

Trapper lay back down on the sheets and rubbed his face. Then he smiled and chuckled when he remembered the night…and Ann. Apparently she did want to be dominated and had complied with whatever he wanted, let herself be manipulated into various positions, even asking him to perform certain acts and reveling in the sensations. _She is quite the woman_. But then Trapper stopped and considered Ann's willingness to please him. Perhaps she was conniving. Perhaps she had intentionally allowed herself to be used by him so that she could then deny him access to her. _But if she thinks I'm going to beg and cry like Stratton, she has another think coming._

Trapper sighed again. He became aroused when he thought of Ann, how she had cried out with pleasure, twisting underneath him, her wrists tied with the sash from the robe that was then looped around the bedpost.

And while he thrust between her legs, he had said in a deep voice, "There is the idea." he said between thrusts, "that all surgeons are basically sadists, that we enjoy cutting into flesh and having the power of life and death in our hands. What do you think, Ann? Do you think it's true? Do you think we're basically cruel?"

Ann's breath had become sharp and she almost panted in her hunger for relief.

He dropped his head so that he was almost whispering in her ear. "Did you like being spanked? Did you?" She made a sound that passed for yes. "Yes, you did. You like all of this don't you?"

"Oh, yes…yes."

The memories drained him. Trapper threw an arm over his eyes and sighed. Ann had been so compliant that he again wondered if that was the real Ann or just an expert courtesan—a dominatrix named Ariadne who was waiting for her turn to make him grovel and lick her stiletto-heeled boots. After all, he was the one who had done the talking as they lay together in the dark of the room, Ann in his arms while he softly stroked her hair. Trapper seemed not to be able to stop talking and Ann had listened although she hadn't shared anything about herself. He had tried to find out more about her but she remained closed. But Trapper had found that he wanted to tell Ann about himself and his failed marriage and his life and how something was lacking. There were a few things Trapper couldn't bring himself to reveal but the rest, he wanted to share with her. And now he regretted that he had handed so much of himself to her.

Trapper sat up and swung his legs over the bed. He decided he would have breakfast sent up and take a shower. He had nothing scheduled at the hospital until the afternoon and that was a consultation. He swept up the robe from the floor and slipped it on, went to the phone and called for room service and placed his order. And then he saw the piece of hotel stationary on the nightstand.

Trapper picked it up and smiled. Written on it was the name 'Ann' and a phone number in her elegant hand


	6. Chapter 6

Six

Dr. Connor waited but Trapper said nothing. "So you and Ann decided that you would have a relationship beyond and beside what she does…besides her profession." Trapper nodded. "So how do you feel about her continuing to work as a….?"

"Dominatrix," Trapper finished for Dr. Connor, "and I'm not sure," Trapper said. He stood up again and Dr. Connor smiled. Trapper had stood up and paced and then sat back down at least ten times now. "Well, that's not the exact truth. I'm not as open-minded as I'd like to be—as I thought I could be. It makes me angry. Okay, maybe more jealous than angry. I mean here she goes out and preforms a sexual service—she insists it's not sexual, that it's therapeutic but I told her that she's just looking to rationalize it—it's sex—and then she expects me to treat it as if it's just another job. I mean—give me a break." Trapper gave an uncomfortable chuckle. "What do you think?"

"What I think is immaterial. I do have to tell you that there is a type of therapy where a patient is paired with a trained sexual surrogate and it's not that unusual. But what you think is what's important here."

"Oh, c'mon. I need a little validation. Tell me it's sex. I mean the men are naked, she binds them, some she gags and does God knows what else with them. How can that not be sexual?"

Dr. Connor tried to remain neutral although he found Trapper's "problem" an intriguing and arousing one; he kept having to remind himself that he was the professional and had to remain objective. "Have you told her how you feel, that you're jealous?"

"She knows how I feel about her work but not that I'm jealous," Trapper quietly said.

"Why not? As strongly as you feel about it, why haven't you told her? Shouldn't you be honest?"

"I don't think that honesty is necessarily the best policy here. I originally told her I could handle it and I thought I could but now…" Trapper shoved his hands in his pants' pockets, the bottom of his sports jacket breaking over his wrists. "I don't know, I just don't know. We get along beautifully—always have a good time until her business intrudes and then we end up arguing. Actually, I'm the one who argues; she turns cold and just watches me act like a damned fool. I mean she has a doctorate in psychology and this is what she does with it? Works as a dominatrix? I can't understand it and she can't explain it or won't."

"She has a doctorate? How did she fall into being a dominatrix?" Dr. Connor was becoming even more fascinated with the woman; he could understand Trapper's problem better now.

Trapper stopped his pacing and sat back down, leaning over and clasping his hands. "She said that she was working on her doctoral thesis—something about psycho-sexual crap, and was doing some 'research' on the psychology of the need of some men-men who had important professions like doctors, lawyers and politicians and such, for domination and found her calling—as she put it. She says it's good, easy money and serves a purpose in society but I think she just enjoys dominating men. I know she tries it with me on occasion—not the bondage and the paddling and humiliation but in our relationship. She wants to be the one to call the shots and so far, she has been the one. I just dance along to her music because, well, because I do enjoy her both in and out of bed—I like her. She's funny and smart and falls on her back for me whenever I want. If it were just sex—well, it would be much easier to turn my back on her and move on but it's not. In some way, I identify with her, feel as if she's the other half of me—the female me. If I were a woman, I would be just like her."

"Since you feel so strongly about her and don't want to end the relationship, what happened to bring about this…crisis, the reason why you're here?" Dr. Connor wondered why Trapper had suddenly decided he needed to discuss the issue.

"Last night was a turning point so to speak. We were to go to dinner with Melanie and David—I introduced her to Melanie—that's how strongly I feel about Ann, that I want her to stay with me, maybe even marry her and then she'd have to meet Melanie eventually so I decided why not now. Anyway, we were all four going to take in a play afterwards, so I went to pick Ann up with more than enough time but we never really made it. I had thought that she was going to end her job as a 'therapist'…"

~ 0 ~

Trapper sat on Ann's front porch in a wicker rocking chair, impatiently waiting for Ann to arrive. He kept glancing at his watch. Usually, it was he who was running late; he had tried to call her but it went to voicemail and he had become angrier each time he tried and was thwarted by the message on both phones—her business number and personal number. And then he became anxious; what if she had run into a bad client, a new client who had other plans for the woman he had arranged to meet? Trapper stood up; he suddenly became too worried to sit and wait. He pulled out his phone and tried her number again and cursed when it went to voicemail. It was almost dark and he strained to see down the road that led to her house. The house was set back from the road in a small, quiet neighborhood where the houses were a good distance from one another. Ann said that she liked the privacy but Trapper didn't. He thought that something could happen to her and no one would know, no one would hear anything. There was a gated front wall which enclosed desert plants that didn't require much upkeep and her front porch was long and narrow with wicker furniture and some potted plants. A schefflera was by the chair in which he had been sitting and a large pot of mother-in-law tongue was also on the porch next to a rubber tree plant. Trapper mindlessly pulled a leaf off the schefflera and tore it to small pieces, letting then fall on the planking. Then, in the dusk, he saw a car coming and as it came closer, he felt relief; it was Ann.

He waited on the porch while she pulled up, parked and stepped out of her car. He noticed that she was wearing a long trench coat, tied shut and he could see that she was wearing the high boots; she often wore them for him, the boots and nothing else. He liked the way they looked, the shiny blackness against her pale skin and the stiletto heels threw her posture off just enough to give her a certain vulnerability. Trapper knew it was a psychological mind game; a man knew that wearing those heels, no matter what, she could never get away from him. After all, she couldn't run in them, couldn't escape him or anyone else for that matter.

"I'm sorry I'm late," she called as she hurried up the three steps to the porch. "I was driving and couldn't get to my phone if that was you calling me." She was about to kiss him but stopped. His face was stern. "Oh, are you in your disapproving parent mode?" She walked by him and unlocked the door and walked in. Trapper followed and closed the door behind him. He watched as she removed her coat and threw it over a chair.

"Well," he said, "Cat Woman is alive and well and living in San Francisco." Ann was dressed in a catsuit and although Trapper had never seen her in it before, he found it arousing. But it made him angry as well. It hugged her so closely that it emphasized her narrow waist and her rounded hips and breasts but it also made her untouchable and practically unattainable. And he didn't like that she wore it for another man—client or not. Whenever he wanted to prod her or annoy her, Trapper would refer to her clients as "Johns" or "Tricks." Then they would argue about how she made her money and Trapper would feel such rage building up in him that he would have to leave until he cooled down, either standing on her front porch or going out on his back porch depending on whose house. But then he ran the chance of her leaving if he stayed out back too long so he rarely left her inside alone at his place.

Ann noticed how he was staring at her. "Do you like it? Trust me, it's uncomfortable and hot—like wearing another skin. Usually I wear it like this." She reached up to the neck and pulled the zipper partly down until it exposed the inward curve of her breasts. Then, convinced that she had bothered him with the display of skin, she turned and strode into the bedroom, calling out, "I'll change. Call your ex and tell her we'll be a little late and I'll be ready as soon as I can."

Trapper waited a few moments and then followed her and when he walked in her room, she had her back to him and was rolling the suit down over her hips, shifting to move the tight fabric down to her thighs. She bent over to unzip the ankles and Trapper watched, mesmerized as she raised her legs to step out, her skin glowing with the slight shimmer of sweat from the heat of the fabric. He moved behind her and she turned in the last moment as he slid one arm around her waist and pulled her to him.

"We'll be late," she said, looking up at his face. He clenched his jaw and he had what she called "that look" on his face. It meant that he was in the mood for serious sex—not a quick one where he just bent her over a chair or took her against a wall with her legs thrown about his waist, her ankles locked as he took his pleasure. No, this was going to be a hard and long one. "Do you want me on the bed?" He nodded and Ann pulled down the covers and then crawled onto the cool sheets.

Trapper began to quickly undress, shrugging off his jacket, loosening his tie and slipping it over his head and Ann watched as he shed the rest of his clothes. Many a night she had considered whether becoming entangled with Dr. John Francis Xavier McIntyre had been a good idea. He had become too important to her and she had been happy before he entered her life. Now she was always thinking of him and they would argue and then reconcile and she would know as she clung to him that it was the right choice—until the next discord.

Trapper crawled into bed and took her in his arms, kissing her deeply. Then he rolled over and Ann was on top. "Sing for your supper," he said, "at least metaphorically. Use your mouth."

Ann smiled slightly and then she ducked her head and began. She often considered that she had never enjoyed being on her knees before a man but now, because it pleased Trapper that she would do it, especially when she did so unprompted. She found that this was a way to control him and also because it gave him such pleasure and despite their arguing, she did want him to stay. Ann knew that without him, if he would walk out of her life, the emptiness he would leave could never be filled—it would just become bearable with time.

So Trapper enjoyed the pressure of her tongue and her hands as she pleased him, the sounds of wetness as she moved faster and faster, her hands applying pressure and releasing until he could bear no more. After she moveded up and laid her head on his chest, giving a light bite to one nipple.

"Ow," he said and wrapped his arm around her, gently playing with her hair which had partially come down from the up-do she had worn that day. "Thank you."

She looked up at him and stroked his beard. "What about dinner? What about David and Melanie?"

"I'll call them—later-and apologize."

"If we left in a few minutes, we could still make it on time." She ran her fingers through his chest hair but knew that they would miss dinner and the movie; this was how Trapper wanted to spend the time, in the bed with her, just the two of them pleasuring each other so that was what they would do.

"What about you?" Trapper asked. "I think you deserve a long, lengthy evening in bed after working so hard." He reached down and pinched her buttocks causing her to jump slightly. "Now, just lie back and enjoy." And so she did, leisurely putting her arms over her head and feeling his hands cup her breasts. Ann moaned softly, moving under his ministrations. This was what Trapper enjoyed; being in charge and giving her pleasure that he hoped no other man did—and she assured him that no other did or really ever had, that he was the only man for whom she spread her white, round thighs and arched her back in delight.


	7. Chapter 7

Seven

The men were sitting at Trapper's dining table, smoking cigars, drinking beer, empty pizza boxes on the floor with greasy napkins balled inside them, and telling jokes as they played poker. Trapper was examining his cards, trying to decide which cards to turn in—if any, when the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it, Pop," J.T. said, He was at the side of the table closest to the living room so he put his cards down and went to the door.

J.T. opened the door, expecting maybe another doctor who had come late to join the game—but it was a woman. She looked expectantly at him.

"You must be J.T. I've seen your picture."

"Uh, yeah—I'm J.T.. I guess you're here to see my dad."

"If he's not busy."

"Um…we're just playing poker. Come in."

Ann walked in and wrinkled her nose at the smell of cigars. "I'm Ann." She offered her hand to J.T. and he shook it and smiled.

"I'll tell him you're here." J.T. left her standing in the foyer and went back to the game. "Pop, it's a woman named Ann. She's beautiful too."

Trapper looked up at J.T. and all the other men looked at Trapper. He pushed back his chair, balanced his cigar in the ashtray next to him and then left them. Gonzo and Titus stood up to try to see while the others craned their necks.

Dr. Tom Cooper stood up. "I have to get a look at her," he said as he went to the living room. Behind him, Gonzo, Titus, Halbert and Rand lined up, jockeying for position to see the woman who had shown up at Trapper's door. Ann looked over at them and they nodded in embarrassment at being caught and then went back to the table while Trapper turned to see what had caught her attention.

"You ever met her before, J.T.?" Titus asked.

"Nope. This is the first time but Pop did seem to get up fast enough didn't he?"

"From what I saw of her," Gonzo said, picking up his hand of cards and examining them again, "I'd be up all the time." The men chuckled in appreciation.

"Hey," J.T. said, "let's peek at my Pop's cards—he shouldn't win at everything."

~ 0 ~

"What happened to Cancun?" Trapper quietly asked her. They hadn't kissed and they still stood in the foyer.

"I changed my mind and flew back. Bought my own return ticket too."

"Why did you change your mind?"

"I thought of you." She looked down; he was staring at her so intensely that she became too aware of his deep feelings and it was as if he was standing naked before her. "I was afraid that—that it would be over between us if I stayed in Cancun." She looked back up at him, at his tender eyes and knew that she had made the right decision. "Would it have been the end of us?"

Trapper pulled her to him and held her, caressing the back of her neck with one hand. "No. It wouldn't have been the end but things wouldn't have been the same. But the end? No, it could never be the end. I need you too much." He kissed her hair and then, holding her face, kissed her mouth.

She wrinkled her nose. "No offense, Trapper, but you taste and smell like beer and cigars—neither of which I like."

He laughed and kissed her again and she threw her arms around his neck. He lifted her up and hugged her to him. Then he set her back down. "Let me get rid of them and then I'll join you upstairs."

"No," she said, putting out her hand to stop him. "You enjoy your poker night and I'll go upstairs and watch some television and take a nap—I've done a lot of traveling today. All that time at the airport and on the plane has worn me out. I wouldn't be much good as tired as I am. So go ahead. I promise that I'll stay put upstairs but when you finally do come to bed, you had better make it worth my missing a weekend in Cancun."

"I promise," he said, kissing her cheek. She smiled at him and went to the stairs and he gave her quick smack on the rear. And then he called to her and Ann stopped on the stairs, turning to look at him. "Ann, I haven't ever really told you, but I do love you."

Ann smiled and then went up the stairs to Trapper's room. She was now certain that she had made the right decision but Trapper was still unsure if his declaration of love hadn't put him in a weak position. He turned and saw that Connor was approaching.

"Was that an honest declaration of feelings I think I heard?" Dr. Connor asked.

"Eavesdropping?"

"Not really, I just had to see what she looks like. Quite an attractive woman. But I have to congratulate you-she came back. I couldn't hear the conversation—didn't want to but being honest and telling Ann how you feel is the first step to an honest relationship."

"Well, that's yet to be seen," Trapper said. "Let's just wait and see if I don't show up in your office next week complaining about my turning into 'Ariadne's' sex slave."

"We should all have such problems," Connor said and Trapper laughed. He knew that all relationships had issues, had problems but he considered that he was going to enjoy them. And maybe, just maybe, he would eventually get the upper hand. It would be fun trying—fun for both him and Ann. He would see to it.

~ Finis ~


End file.
